


Someone To Watch Over Me

by Dagonet (TsukikoCurrier)



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6533638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsukikoCurrier/pseuds/Dagonet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Oh, they’re monogrammed- this doesn’t help my case about your family being old-fashioned.’</p><p>'It wasn’t intended to. What are the initials on them?’</p><p>'H.A.H.’</p><p>'Yes, you see? It laughs, because my life is a joke.’</p><p>Or: Harry'd like to add his initial to Eggsy's monogram.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone To Watch Over Me

          Harry’s parents hadn’t been thinking about his initials when they’d named him, that much was obvious. His grandfather’s name had been Alan so of _course_  it was a fine, strapping, name for their son.  
  
          His aunt had gifted him with a set of monogrammed handkerchiefs for his eighteenth birthday, _something every young gentleman ought to have_ , and though he’d thanked her graciously at the time, he’d never intended for them to see the light of day. Not outside of necessity.  
  
So, of course, his new roommate at Cambridge managed to unearth them while helping him unpack.

          ‘Okay, I knew you came from money but I didn’t think you were _this_  old fashioned.’ Lachlan held up the stack of folded kerchiefs, eyebrow raised in askance as he gestured to a nearby shelf.  
  
‘They were a gift- I only use them when I have to see the person who gave them to me. And I’ll put them in the bottom of a drawer somewhere, just put them on the bed for now.’  
  
          'Why?’  
  
'Did you look at the embroidery?’ Harry walked over to pick one up, unfolding it with a wave before placing it back on the bedspread and stepping back.

          'Oh, they’re monogrammed- this doesn’t help my case about your family being old-fashioned.’  
  
'It wasn’t intended to. What are the initials on them?’  
  
          'H.A.H.’  
  
'Yes, you see? It laughs, because my life is a joke.’  
  
          Unfortunately his Aunt Louise passed away later that year, and with her passing came a great wave of nostalgic appreciation for the gift. He began to carry them around regularly- offered to friends when they might be of use, the odd girl he saw in distress, and on one particularly interesting occasion to help a man staunch a gunshot wound. That had resulted in what was probably the most ridiculous and exciting job interview of his life, ending with a fancy codename and money that he’d actually earned as opposed to ended up with through others’ misfortune. And his own, to be honest; his aunt had had no children of her own, and his parents had died a short while after her. He was far more than comfortably well off.  
  
          Still, he cared for that set of handkerchiefs the way some handled priceless heirlooms- still carried one in his pocket, even though Kingsman made their own that were far more useful.  
  
          It was one of these that Harry offered to Eggsy when he came back. He’d bypassed any notion of stopping by Kingsman and instead gone straight to his home once his feet had touched British soil. He hadn’t thought there would be someone there- just a spare set of glasses and his own bed- but Eggsy had been there, eyes wide and hair a mess.  
  
          'Alright, either I’m hallucinating, or you ain’t dead. Which is it?’  
  
'I’ve a fair few more scars than I did the last time we saw each other, Eggsy- I doubt your mind would compensate for such things.’  
  
          'Fair point.’ Eggsy promptly pulled Harry to him, gripping him far too tightly,  but he didn’t dare correct him- the front of his shirt was damp in seconds. 'I’m so fucking sorry, Harry. I never shoulda said that stuff before Kentucky.’ It’s said brokenly, between shuddering gasps, as Harry rubs his back mindlessly. He thought he’d be crying, as well, when they reunited- but perhaps his body had decided to hold off until he knew Eggsy was okay.  
  
          'I said things I didn’t mean, too, Eggsy. I was angry at myself for not realising- for not preparing you. The blame rests at my feet, not your own. But, might I suggest we go to the living room and sit down? I’m afraid I’m not in the best of shape, at the moment.’ Eggsy pulled away, wiping his face on the back of his arm, and Harry had offered a kerchief before he’d consciously decided to do so. Eggsy looked at the proffered bit of cloth for a moment, and Harry took that moment to wipe at his face himself. His hand shook, something he’d been able to get rid of since The Church, but after Eggsy recovered his hand came up to rest atop his own. He didn’t try to direct it, or take it from Harry, just rest his hand on top of Harry’s shaking one.  
  
          He appreciated it more than words could express.  
  
'So what’s this, then?’ He and Eggsy were sat in front of the telly, which was still running whatever mindless show Eggsy had been watching before they arrived.  
  
          'I’m sure you know what a handkerchief is, Eggsy.’  
  
'Well, yeah, but no one actually carries them around anymore- why do you? They’ve got embroidery and everythin’ they’re fancy shit.’  
  
          'It’s called a monogram, Eggsy- they’re my initials. And sentiment, mostly- they’re also incredibly useful. Actually landed my Kingsman candidacy with one of those.’  
  
          'Now _that_  is a story I’ve got to hear.’ They fell asleep at some point after that, tucked up against one another like kittens for warmth, the soiled kerchief still in Eggsy’s grip.  
  
The first time Eggsy came back from a mission more bruise than man, Harry gifted him with his own set of monogrammed handkerchiefs.  
  
          'What’re these for, then?’ Eggsy idly rubbed his thumb over the golden E.T.U. embroidered onto the square of black cotton, looking between it and Harry every few seconds.

'Just in case.’  
  
          'In case of what?’  
  
          'You never know what can happen.’ They sat in companionable silence for a time, an old film Harry didn’t really pay attention to playing in the background, Eggsy’s fingertips still tracing the embroidery.  
  
          Harry had been agonising for nearly a month over how to propose to Eggsy. He’d never thought he’d have the opportunity, or the desire, to marry someone but here he is and he wants to do it _right_. He wants it to be the kind of thing that Eggsy tells Daisy about for a bedtime story, a proposal as wonderful and unique as Eggsy, but he has to do it on his own. Merlin was a simple man who’d sooner just inform his partner that they’d be getting married than pull together an elaborate plot, and he was the closest thing to family Harry had.  
  
          So when he walked into the kitchen one morning, Eggsy already there singing beneath his breath, it seemed like a sign from the god he didn’t believe in.  
  
'Where’s that from, love- it’s familiar but I can’t quite place it.’

          'Hm? Oh, Mr. Holland’s Opus s'where I heard it- but it’s a Gershwin song.’  
  
_Definitely going on the wedding playlist_ , he thought to himself, a plan already forming.  
  
          'Harry where’s my hankies?’  
  
'Your _what_?’  
  
          'The kerchiefs you got me- can’t find 'em.’  
  
'Oh, sorry- I threw them in the wash with a few of my own- you can take one of mine?’  
  
          'Alrigh’. Should be quick, but you know how it goes- I’ll see you in a few days, babe!’ Eggsy kissed him quickly before leaving the office. Harry smiled, pulling the small box that he’d been hiding from a drawer in his desk and sauntered from the office.  
  
          Eggsy came back from Croatia whole and unharmed, brandishing Harry’s kerchief like a trophy. 'I almos’ lost it, but I got it back!’ He looked so pleased with himself.  
  
          'And for that I thank you- you _and_  the kerchief in one piece is quite impressive.’ Eggsy stuck his tongue out, which Harry pretended to ignore. 'I left yours on our bed- was reorganising the dresser.’  
  
          'I’m gonna go clean up a bit- be down in a three shakes.’ Harry continued to cook dinner, feeling incredibly domestic as he heard the water running and Eggsy singing.  
           
          'Harry.’  
  
'Yes, Eggsy?’  
  
          'What’s this?’ He’s still dripping from the shower, towel barely staying at his hips, one of his handkerchiefs hanging from his grip.  
  
'Well that’s a handkerchief, Eggsy.’  
  
          'Not the- the _monogram_  you pillock.’ It’s said with exasperated fondness, though Harry doesn’t miss the slight tremble in his voice.  
  
'Well, I thought it was about time we fixed them.’  
  
          'There was something _wrong_  with them?’ Harry pulled a ring from his apron’s pocket, turning to Eggsy and kneeling in one smooth motion.  
  
'Well, there would have been- I’d be incredibly honoured if you would marry me, Eggsy. It’s traditional that, when one weds, they add the initial of their partner’s last name.’ He pulled one of his kerchiefs from his pocket, displaying the black U added at the end of his own. 'I had mine done months ago- I just couldn’t figure out how to ask you.’ Eggsy seemed in shock, looking frantically from the kerchief in his hand, to the one in Harry’s, to Harry himself kneeling before him.  
  
          ’ _Yes_ , Harry.'

**Author's Note:**

> The song Eggsy sings is Someone To Watch Over Me and [this is the version he knows.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3A84-s9RyNw)
> 
> As always, find me on tumblr at [AgentDagonet](http://www.agentdagonet.tumblr.com)


End file.
